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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23556514">Open My Chest</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinabug/pseuds/zinabug'>zinabug</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we're just a million miles from home [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mechanisms (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon typical blood, Carmilla's A+ parenting, Found Family, Gen, There is in fact something happy in this one-shot, non-consensual medical shit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:01:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,731</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23556514</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinabug/pseuds/zinabug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>More of this sibling time with Jonny and nastya pre rest of the crew.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dr Carmilla &amp; Jonny d'Ville, Dr Carmilla &amp; Nastya Rasputina, Jonny d'Ville &amp; Nastya Rasputina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we're just a million miles from home [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685929</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>180</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Open My Chest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title from wolves without teeth by of monsters and men</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Jonathan was a good person once.” Carmilla was smiling slightly, waiting to see how Nastya would react. So many things she said were out of curiosity to see how they would react. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was handing tools to Carmilla as she did something with Jonny’s heart. There was a lot of blood on Carmilla’s hands and clothes. She was wearing a lab coat over a very fancy dress, dark red and probably soaked in blood too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nastya didn’t know if Jonny was awake or not. She didn’t want to look, she would just keep looking down at Jonny’s old steel-toed boots and handing Carmilla tools and ignoring the blood on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was exhausted, tired in her mind and body. She had been standing there for hours, but that wasn’t just it. The constant cold and pain tired her, Carmilla tired her. Even the thought of Carmilla tired her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny made a strangled sound of pain, as his heart started again. Nastya closed her eyes, trying not to listen to his ragged breathing and cries of pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It stopped again, after only a couple minutes, and he quietly died again halfway through a breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anastasia, dear, would you hand me those tweezers?”  Carmilla asked sweetly. “Let me see, I was telling you something.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nastya would not talk to Carmilla. One act of defiance, and she was determined to keep it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes, Jonathan. He was a wonderful man. Pity about that knife.” she was grinning again, Nastya could hear it. “It was very hard on him, One Eyed Jack’s jobs. Jonathan has a lot of blood on his hands.” she laughed. “Well, so do I, at the moment. Literal blood.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nastya’s mouth tasted like quicksilver and she realized she had bitten through her lip again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He used to love life, rejoiced in it, even after he became bitter. Growing up can do that, if you grow up with a gun in your hands.” Carmilla laughed again. “He stopped truly enjoying things the moment he died, but that doesn’t stop him from caring.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny’s breathing was still ragged, leaned up against Nastya. His hands were shaking badly in hers and just as cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did she say?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had draped her coat over their shoulders. “What do you mean?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was talking to you.” his eyes were half closed. He looked very helpless and afraid. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jonathan was a good person once” sharp toothed grins bloody gears-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was telling me about you.” she gripped his hands tighter, wishing she could help warm them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny nodded. “About me. What about me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About you before you died. About how you can’t truly enjoy things anymore but-” she bit her lip, the cut still fresh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what.” He sounded cold and tired, the same exhaustion that she felt. “Please I don’t even care what it is nothing could hurt me worse at this point.”  He took a deep breath. “Except one thing. Losing you would be too much.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She said you could still care.” Nastya whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them were silent for a long time. It might have been ten minutes, maybe longer, and neither of them cared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no idea how much it hurts to love you.” he said. “I have been very alone for so long and now- now I have someone.” he paused. “A sister.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A brother.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them spoke at the same time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just-” his voice was strangled and full of pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay.” She said quietly. “Just rest.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She quietly hummed him to sleep as his breathing slowed and steadied into sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How long were you alone with her?” she asked, when the two of them were sitting in her hidden loft. He looked slightly uncomfortable in the space, small and hard to run from. He had papers spread out in front of him, music notes and random bits of lyric scribbled on them with a dying pen. At her words, he stabbed the pen tip through the paper. It wasn't because she had startled him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too long. I had stopped counting a good few hundred years before we found you.” he scribbled a couple of nonsense words on the paper, something about bullets that faded halfway through. He shook the pen in frustration. “We explored and adventured and fought, sometimes for good, sometimes just for violence, pure and simple. The euphoria of immortality didn’t last long, but while it did, it was intense.” he took a deep breath. “And violent.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nastya could picture it, Jonny, standing in no-man's land of some far off war and laughing as bullets rained down. Jonny, taking down armies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carmilla wasn’t always this awful. Well, she was, but she was better at pretending she wasn’t. And after my mechanism finally started working, she left me alone for a while. At least, left me alone in the sense that she didn’t do any further experimenting.” he rubbed his chest, feeling the new metal plate over his mechanism. It was nicer than the old one, but he was still getting used to it. “Only for a little while though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you lonely?” Nastya asked. She was fiddling with some small gears and things taken from Carmilla’s lab, wishing she had been allowed to learn about robotics as a child. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-” he pauses and tpas the pen on the paper. “Yes, I was, but the last thing I wanted was another person like me. Immortal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was lonely. Always have been.” Nastya dropped the gear and watched it spin across the floor. “It’s funny but I feel much less alone now that my family is gone.” she was careful to keep emotion out of her voice. She wasn’t even sure what emotions that were being hidden. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny scribbled a few more words - </span>
  <em>
    <span>suicide kings abound </span>
  </em>
  <span>- and crumpled up a differnt paper with a few notes written on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I supposed to do with myself for eternity? Run from Carmilla in her ship? Write music forever? Kill and destroy entire planets out of boredom and bloodlust?” Jonny snapped. She didn’t think he had been listening to her speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nastya looked down at the gears in her hands and on the floor. “How long has it been since I got here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Carmilla probably does.” Jonny started doodling a harmonica on the paper. “It’s not like I’m going to ask her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That note of anger was back in his voice. Anger and bitterness were the only emotions Nastya could ever pick out from the mess that was Jonny D’ville, and she had been considered very good at reading emotions back in the palace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All she could see was anger, anger at Carmilla, their situation, at immortality, at everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But never her. His anger was never directed at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She realized this just as he got frustrated with his drawing and scribbled over it, Any semblance of songwriting gone, just scattered lyrics on a tattered page. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do I still do this?” Jonny growled. “Carmilla is the one who wants the music. This is her idea and I don’t want to help her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like making the music?” Nastya asked. She didn’t even think about it, a question so very simple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crumpled the paper in his hand. “You could call it enjoyment. I’m doing it for me, not her. It’s for me. us.”  he was just convincing himself at that point, quietly writing down more song lyrics scattered across the page. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you writing?” she asked, moving closer to him to look over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I know.” he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing up more than normal. “I’m just saying words in some kind of order.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reached for the paper, and when he let her, she picked it up. There were a few scattered phrases about cards and bullets and a couple things about revenge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should write about something other than your tragic past. It’s depressing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed. “Princess, Everything here is depressing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t have to be all the time. We can actually make it happier, </span>
  <em>
    <span>cowboy.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She took his pen. “Let’s write a song about something happy, come on.” she nudged him with her foot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He cracked a slight smile. “Okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>princess, </span>
  </em>
  <span>what do you want to write about.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She elbowed him in the ribs. “Make some shit up. Add a dragon, I don’t know. You’re a good storyteller.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t get to make it sad.” she added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s no fun!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two of them were sitting up on structural girder 11-N and trying to make a violin and harmonica sound good together. It was actually going very well, Jonny playing some kind of complicated melody while Nastya matched it, somewhat simpler for the sake of her hands. The ship was humming, as it always did, and Nastya could believe that it was trying to sing along with them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nastya, what are you doing?” Jonny asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not doing anything.” She lowered her violin bow. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Cowboy.”  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were humming. And you slowed down your playing.” he paused. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Princess.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re really going to stick with the nicknames, aren’t we.” Nastya poked him in the ribs. “The Aurora was talking to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The starship?” he asked. “It’s a- a starship.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nastya sighed and poked him in the ribs again. “You just need to listen, </span>
  <em>
    <span>cowboy.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and listened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just hear the ship humming.” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “You just aren’t listening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>you!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They dissolved into a poking fight, interspersed with “princess!” And “cowboy!” And “fuck you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny suddenly froze. Nastya took the opportunity to poke him a couple more times, caught in the moment. Then she realized why he has gone quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anastasia?” Carmilla was calling from somewhere below them. “Jonathan?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nastya grabbed her violin and scooted back into the shadows of the ceiling. Jonny snatched his papers and shoved them in his vest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them pressed their backs against the wall, Jonny protectively tucking Nastya under his arm. The two of them held their breath, waiting until she left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nastya closed her eyes, grabbing Jonny’s other hand. Carmilla was gone, but knowing she was looking for at least one of them was… bad news. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate you.” She said into his side. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Cowboy.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed and ruffled her hair. “Hate you too, princess.”</span>
</p>
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